


Reflections

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki dreams and this is what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ December 23, 2010.
> 
> Holiday fic for jlarinda, and her request was: "Wata dreaming about the future, about how years and years and years after the Rou timeline, reincarnated Wata and Dou (who're bickery!friends or know each other at least) meet Hima (also reincarnated and a newly transferred student!). Who cares about introductions, body memories(?)/fate/hitsuzen/theirlivesnotsuckingthistime kick in, and Hima hugs them both." She also wanted Wata to have a brother who looks a lot like their dad~*~

Watanuki dreams. He can feel that he is, slipping through layers of consciousness and falling through realities. When he opens his own eyes within the dream, the world around him does not seem so different from the one he’d left, the one he hadn’t truly seen for ten years. The ground is soft where he lies, and he sits up, slowly, moving in that fluid motion he always does at the beginning of dreams.   
  
There is the distant sound of chatter and laughter, and Watanuki follows that sound, moving slowly until he becomes used to the dream’s dynamics, and moves just as naturally as he did through real time.   
  
He is at a school. He stands outside the gate, gazing up at it, feeling it tick at something deep in his gut but unable to place why. He stays standing there, feels that odd sensation of students moving past him and, in some cases, right through him—never once knowing he is there.   
  
And then someone specifically moves through him, walking towards the school. He is a lanky boy, black hair disheveled, glasses slightly askew. Watanuki freezes. He is seeing himself, walking beside Syaoran. The two walk in silence, side-by-side, close enough that it’s clear they are walking together.   
  
“Ah,” Syaoran says and suddenly stops. “There’s Sakura…”   
  
The dream Watanuki nods and the real Watanuki watches the two wave a simple goodbye. “See you at home,” Syaoran said. “It’s your turn to cook tonight.”   
  
“I know,” the dream Watanuki says and waves goodbye to Syaoran with a smile. Syaoran walks off and Watanuki can see him making a beeline for Sakura, near the school’s entrance, wearing the school’s uniform and talking to a girl with long black hair who keeps saying something that makes Sakura blush. The two girls see Syaoran coming and even from that distance, Watanuki can see the way Sakura brightens up considerably.   
  
Watanuki takes a step onto the school grounds, eyes returning to his dream self. This Watanuki is younger, and his smile doesn’t seem pained. He is talking to himself, something about what he’ll make for his family that night, remarking on how his brother and father like whenever he makes fish.   
  
The real Watanuki follows him and then, perhaps only a little surprised, sees Doumeki step up to his side, as expressionless as ever. The dream Watanuki recoils slightly, shouting, “You _would_ show up whenever I started talking about food, you glutton.”  
  
“Hey,” Doumeki greets, deadpanned. The real Watanuki stares at him, at how young this Doumeki is.   
  
“And before you ask, you can’t come over. Dinner is a sacred moment between brothers and parents, thank you very much!” the dream Watanuki says with a huff, puffing out his chest and tipping his nose up to the sky. “I don’t care how long I’ve known you, it’s not going to happen.”  
  
“Okay,” Doumeki says with a shrug.  
  
“Don’t—! Don’t be so damn accepting of everything! And stop looking so smug! I will _not_ be giving you the leftovers!”   
  
Doumeki’s expression is the same as always, but even the real Watanuki feels his shoulders prickling at the way Doumeki stares so intensely at the dream Watanuki.   
  
That Watanuki sighs, putting on a look of great suffering. “But because I am the Great Watanuki-sama, I’ve decided to give you what we had last night. But only because the food would go to waste anyway, and you’re such a glutton I know it won’t be wasted.”  
  
“Thanks,” Doumeki says, holding out his hand and taking the container of food Watanuki whipped from his bag with a victorious laugh.  
  
“And anyway,” Watanuki says, and the two begin walking towards the school’s entrance, the front courtyard beginning to empty as it grew closer and closer to the first bell. “I can’t make it an unfair advantage for you this year when I beat you in the sports festival! You better be prepared, this year I’m going to beat you!”   
  
Doumeki shrugs, not looking very impressed. He looks far more interested in the food in his hands when he says, “You’ve said that since we were four.”  
  
“This year is my lucky year!” Watanuki crows, loudly, and even pumps his fist in the air. “This year I have a secret weapon.”  
  
“What?” Doumeki asks, eating some egg from the leftovers tin before Watanuki notices.   
  
“I’ve been practicing with Sakura-chan’s brother, of course!” Watanuki says, and starts laughing, gripping his chin in his hand and nodding sagely as they walk. “I bet you’re scared now!”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Damn it, act a little more petrified! I can never tell with such a weirdo face!”   
  
The real Watanuki watches the two walk towards the door, but doesn’t start to follow them right away. He watches their backs, listens to the drift of conversation—achingly familiar to himself, but painfully distant. Watanuki frowns, stares down at his feet for a moment. So in this dream, he and Doumeki had known each other for a long time. And Syaoran was his brother.   
  
“Then the parents—?”   
  
Watanuki stops talking before his thoughts can wander and he works himself into a frenzy that would force him to wake from that dream. And then he feels someone walk through him again, making her way towards the school.  
  
Watanuki whips his head up as he watches the schoolgirl with long, impossibly curly black hair pause and look down at some documents she holds in her hand.   
  
“Himawari-chan…” Watanuki says, his heart lodging up into his throat.   
  
He hasn’t seen her so young in so long. In fact, it’s been too long since he’s seen her at all. He starts walking beside her before he can stop himself, stares at her profile as she walks. Her smile does not seem painted on, does not seem quite so stainless steel. Her hair is in pigtails, and there is no Tanpopo in sight. But as Watanuki stares at her, he cannot sense the warp of an aura, cannot sense the luck vacuuming from her general vicinity. No, this Himawari is smiling because she is happy. She is not hiding.   
  
Watanuki cannot think of words to say, but it does not matter because this Himawari would not hear him. She looks back down at her sheets of paper in hand and inhales a little. “This is the place! Now to find the front office…”  
  
Watanuki’s mouth is dry and he chases her down. Transfer student—this Himawari is a transfer student. He stares with wide eyes at the way she walks, the way she smiles, the way she laughs—all so familiar, and yet so different.   
  
Himawari begins navigating the hallways, making her way towards the front office. As she turns a corner, however, Watanuki sees beyond both the dream Watanuki and Doumeki, Watanuki shouting at Doumeki about being the reason they’re late, because he just had to stop and eat all the food in one go.   
  
Himawari stops, as well, staring at them with wide eyes. The smile is gone from her face. The dream Watanuki sees Himawari first, and he freezes, too.   
  
“What—?” he asks, absently, not accusing—just confused.   
  
Doumeki stops beside him, also seeing Himawari.   
  
The three stand in a stilled silence, her eyes on the two boys, the two boys staring at her. The real Watanuki could see the beginnings of memories, of something, of anything, working behind Himawari’s eyes. But he knows that this girl cannot place where she knows these two boys, because in this world, in this lifetime, she does not know them yet—but her body, her soul—it remembers.   
  
And then this Himawari does what he has never seen the real Himawari—married now, distant now—do. She drops her bags and runs forward. She doesn’t say anything as she collides into the two boys, her arms curling around both their necks and pulling them to her. She hugs them, tightly, her head bowed, and, after a moment, her shoulders shaking with tears. Watanuki, for once, does not shout out something and instead is hugging her instantly, his eyes widened and perhaps misty—as if he, too, is trying to remember. It takes a moment, a moment in which Doumeki’s expression is perfectly stunned, but he, too, curls an arm around the shaking girl’s back.   
  
The real Watanuki feels his heart thunder against his chest and he clenches it, his expression crumbling.   
  
And before he can stop it, he knows he is waking up. He blinks his eyes open and sees the butterfly curtains draped over his bed, the ceiling beyond. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, feeling heavy and miserable, knowing he’d just seen a dream of a future—another lifetime.   
  
“But…” he whispers, ignoring the inquiries of concern from both Maru and Moro. He is crying. He can feel the tears on his cheeks. “But where was Yuuko-san?”


End file.
